


Brother's Keeper

by jmtorres



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/pseuds/jmtorres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's not even your real kid, I am," Deb said. "And if you think this lame trip to the mall makes up for everything--"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ep shlan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ep+shlan).



Harry didn't teach Dexter how to knock someone out with a blow, with a headlock, with just his hands and strength. Instead, he made Dexter a false identity to buy horse tranquilizer with. This was because Deb knocked Dexter on his ass with a move she picked up in Taekwondo, and Dexter let her, just flopped on his back with the air knocked out of him, looking up at her. Harry made sure he was all right, then left him on the driveway and went to make his own plans.

Dexter thought this was kind of ironic, since he was pretty sure the reason Harry started taking Deb to Taekwondo lessons in the first place was to make sure she could defend herself against _him_.

\---

It was a Sunday, a Sunday after Harry and Dexter had spent all of Saturday on a hunting trip and come back with nothing to show for it but seeming pleased with themselves nonetheless. Harry said, "Well, kids, who wants to go to the mall?" and Dexter expressed predictable disinterest, as did Deb.

Harry, for once, ignored Dexter and cajoled Deb. "Don't you need some new sneakers for gym this fall?" he asked.

"Mom's taking me shopping for new clothes during the Labor Day sales," Deb said unenthusiastically.

"We could go by the record store," Harry offered.

"Oh, Dad," Deb sighed, "no one has _records_ anymore."

Low-voiced, Harry said, "Deborah, get in the car."

"Geez, Dad," Deb said, but she obeyed.

"I don't see why you have to be so difficult," Harry said, once they were safely down the street from the house. "I just wanted to have some father-daughter time and you act like I'm marching you off to prison!"

"It's the _mall_ ," Deb said.

"It doesn't have to be the mall," Harry said. "Where do you want to go?"

Deb shrugged and folded her arms over her seatbelt.

So Harry took her to the mall. He parked by a department store; Deb tromped through it to the mall proper without looking at anything. There was a jewelry store just past it. Harry offered to pay to get Deb's ears pierced. Deb looked torn for a whole two seconds, tugging on one earlobe, before she finally said, "No, that's stupid," and walked on.

They had ice cream at the food court. Deb professed not to want any but Harry said, "Deborah. Come order," and she did. She had a double scoop of Rocky Road, which she stabbed sullenly with her plastic spoon in an attempt to make known that she was being _forced_ to eat it.

"Look," said Harry, "I need to talk to you about Dex."

"What _about_ him?" Deb asked.

"I know it makes you mad that I spend a lot of time with him," said Harry.

"He's not even your real kid, I am," Deb said. "And if you think this lame trip to the mall makes up for everything--"

"Deborah," said Harry, and she stopped. "Dexter's not like you, all right? He's not... he's not normal. If I don't pay enough attention to you, it's because I worry about you less. You're a good kid and you're going to grow up into a good person even without me looking over your shoulder every step of the way. Dexter, I worry about."

"What, just because his parents are dead?" Deb asked.

"No, not just because his parents are dead," Harry said, "though that is a very ugly thing to say, young lady, and if I catch you saying it to _him_ , you'll be in real trouble, do you hear?"

Deb looked down in her ice cream.

"Dexter," Harry said slowly, "is too much of a loner. He doesn't make friends. He doesn't have any family but us. And someday your mom and me will be gone, and you'll be all he has, and if you don't make him talk to you he won't talk to anybody. He's going to be your responsibility, Deb."

"He's two years older than me," Deb pointed out. "And why can't you just make him make friends?"

"It doesn't work like that," said Harry.

"Why _not_?" said Deb, shrill.

"I already said he's not normal," Harry said impatiently.

"What's wrong with him?" Deb demanded.

"He's... he's," Harry started. "His brain doesn't work like everyone else's. He's smart, he just thinks differently. And it makes it so it's hard for him to connect to people. Okay?"

"No," said Deb. "I don't _get_ it. What makes him so damn special?"

Harry just looked at her.

"Sorry," Deb said.

"He's not going to go out of his way to have friends," said Harry, "because the way his brain works, he doesn't see the _point._ And nobody's going to try to be his friend, because he won't try back. But he can't live like that. He'll go crazy if he doesn't have anybody. You have to steady him, or he'll go crazy."

"Like frothing at the mouth crazy?" Deb asked.

"More like, killing spree crazy," said Harry.

Deb laughed. Harry smiled, a little, even though it wasn't funny. "But you understand?" Harry asked.

"My brother is a brain-damaged freak and I'm the only one who can keep him from going psycho," said Deb. "Got it." She slurped ice cream off her spoon.

Harry nodded. "All right," he said. "This is just between us."

"Okay," said Deb, rolling her eyes. "I won't tell Dex he's a brain-damaged psycho."

They walked around the rest of the mall at a more leisurely pace, and Harry bought Deb a new pair of jeans ("Mom won't _ever_ get me the ones with the bleach streaks, can I have them _please_ ,") and a pair of sunglasses with rhinestones in the corners.

The space by the furniture store had been rented and turned into a martial arts studio. Harry caught Deb looking at it, and said, "You still want to be a cop like your old man?"

"Maybe," Deb allowed.

"You should know how to fight," said Harry. "You want to take classes?"

Deb thought it over. "That would be kind of cool, I guess," she said.

Harry, recognizing this as the pre-teen equivalent of jumping for joy, signed her up on the spot.

On the way home, Deb said, "You're not going to die, are you?"

Harry looked at her for a long moment, and the car behind him honked to let him know the light had turned green. "Someday," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"All that stuff about me taking care of Dex," said Deb. "I mean, you're not sick or something, are you?"

"No," said Harry. "It won't be for a long time. I just wanted you to think about maybe, you know, being nicer to your brother."

"Whatever," said Deb, but she made Dexter play basketball with her when they got home.

(It was sooner than he thought, Harry's death, but at least both of his children were prepared.)


End file.
